


Taste of a Soul

by Doceo_Percepto



Series: A Noncanon Version of Little Nightmares II [2]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, so might have a second chapter might not, this did not end the way i planned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 22:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21063923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: Mono asks a question and regrets the answer.





	Taste of a Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Directly inspired by [Blood_Is_Ink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_Is_Ink). This time Mono's lines are even stolen from you! x]
> 
> Like the other stories, this is loosely based on TaM

There was something of a ritual to Six’s kills. The ritual itself didn’t creep Mono out so much as the fact he’d seen it enough times to learn it - but he didn’t like to linger on that. Point was, she’d get hungry, she’d eat, and she’d look, for a time, so _alive._ Invigorated. But upon seeing him, she’d try to tamp it down. _Try_ being the key word. She may not have realized how obvious it was to Mono, that she was covering up how much she enjoyed her kills. She certainly didn’t realize how sad it made him, that she felt she had to hide any part of herself like that. Of course, he understood why. She was ever wary he might respond like other people did: with fear, hatred, disgust. 

Though, if Mono were to be completely honest… once he got over the cause of that playful energy, he thoroughly appreciated how _good_ it made her feel. And he had no intention of responding negatively to it. Maybe it was the number of times he’d seen it, or maybe it was because of the exceedingly positive impact consuming a living soul had on her, but one way or another, Mono was getting very comfortable with the idea of her eating people. In instances where Hunger struck, he tried less hard to acquire other food. He was more willing to relent, figuring that one soul meant little when they were on their way to saving thousands.

On top of that, he got more… well, _curious_ about the whole process. What made a soul so much better than eating just dead meat? What was it like anyway, to eat a soul? Did they have a taste? Was the taste different from person to person? Bizarrely, it even made Mono wonder what his own soul tasted like, but that’s not a question he wanted to examine too long.

One afternoon, on the fringes of the forest, Mono was sitting on a sun-warmed rock. Six was cleaning herself off from her recent kill in a nearby stream, and these sort of questions were buzzing in his mind again. 

Her Hunger, and the soul thing… it was really taboo for him. She was always willing to talk about it, of course, and he’d gotten more comfortable, sure: his guilt had slowly been throttled into near non-existence, buried beneath justifications and flimsy explanations for why he let her feedings continue. Even with that, though, he wasn’t entirely cozy with casually chatting about the death of other kids, or asking weird probing questions about them that seemed violating to ask. 

So those questions pressed louder and louder in his skull, but he spent a while chewing his lip and stewing over them before, finally, the first word slipped out, “what….” 

Six lifted her head, red-tinted water trickling through her fingers. It was too late to take back the word and Mono plowed on, “What…do souls taste like?”

Six’s eyes were curious, faintly surprised, like she never expected that question. 

Her silent regard prompted him nervously onwards, “do they… even have a taste?”

She tilted her head to the side, and quickly Mono added, “I’m just curious…”

She was still for a second, contemplating him. Part of Mono fiercely regretted the question. Part of him really, really wanted to know her answer. 

The thing with Six was that she couldn't talk, not with words at least. So her silence could be that she was considering the answer to his question, or considering _how_ to answer. Mono waited not so patiently, twisting his fingers together. 

Then, making a decision, Six came to sit beside him, cross-legged.

She held out her right hand towards him, palm upwards. At first, the gesture puzzled him - she wanted him to hold her hand? Then, from the depths of her sleeve, a sliver of her shadow unfurled and coiled low in her palm, meekly, as if asking permission.

These shadows… Mono knew vaguely what they were. He knew that they came from the souls Six devoured. He knew they were blacker than night, more powerful than any human force, andthat Six would use them to rip more souls from others’ bodies. It was hard to fathom their strength just from the tiny tendril innocuously undulating in her hand, but Mono had seen their fury enough times that the sight of them set him a little on edge. Of course… she’d proven again and again that the use of her powers could be innocent and harmless. She’d even saved their lives with them. 

Mono swallowed, trying to calm her nerves. This was Six, and he trusted her. 

Although he didn’t understand how this related to his question, he also trusted that it did. So, slightly breathless, Mono reached out until his finger tips met hers.

He hoped the gesture was clear: whatever she was trying to express, he was here to listen. 

For a moment the two of them simply sat there, as if Six was waiting for him to change his mind. When he didn’t, the shadow’s body lengthened like a leech’s. It slithered up her fingers, and began to wind around Mono’s. He held his breath, and sat very, very, still, while it inched down between his middle and pointer fingers. He’d expected the touch of it to be cold, like death, but no - it was warm. And if he focused on it, he could just barely discern that it was pulsing, as if with a heartbeat. Her heartbeat, or the soul’s? Mono was too scared to ask. Regardless, it crawled into his palm, and even further down, nuzzling and nosing at his wrist as if searching for something. 

The sensation wasn’t painful, but neither was it comfortable. Mono glanced quickly at Six, a crease in his brow, _what’s happening? Is this supposed to be-?_

Then, the tendril seeped under his skin, with only the faintest twinge of discomfort. Mono shot his gaze back down, to find the thing _inside_ him, bulging black and sinister from within the veins of his wrist.

“Six-“ he said sharply, alarmed; it took all his willpower not to jerk away. What did this have to do with the taste of souls? What was she _doing_? Six’s free hand seized his forearm, refusing to let him pull away. Her eyes were insistent, but calm. 

Mono took a shaky breath. Relax. Relax. Oh God, he could _feel_ it, worming deeper into his arm. Winding towards his chest. He didn’t like this. But Six’s expression was steady. She seemed to feel, no matter how alarming it was for him, that this was safe. So he steadied himself. 

“What is-“ he began to ask, and that’s when the sensation of - of _something_ overwhelmed him. It went beyond explanation; it defied description. It was, in a word, bliss, but that word failed to capture all its nuances. It was _sad_, which seemed unusual to mix with bliss, but it was sad and happy, angry and serene. It was the vibrant colors of nature and the muted colors of human creations, it was so so _so_ many things, vivid and penetrating, or dull and bitter, playful and serious. It was a tide. An _ocean_. And within it, he saw people and places that he’d never seen before (and yet he had memories of them, each face weighted with a sentimental pull). He suddenly knew things he hadn’t before. 

Drowning in it, Mono finally pieced together enough of his own inundated consciousness to realize what he was experiencing was another human being entirely, down to their darkest secrets and deepest fears. 

_Taste_, he thought, dizzy with the maelstrom of novel sensations. _I asked her about the taste of a soul._ It wasn’t one taste, and it wasn’t taste in any sense like regular food had. But he could see how this would be her answer. 

He hadn’t even begun to process through everything he was seeing and feeling before the experiences were diluted and then removed entirely. The shadow was already slipping from his wrist, and then soon enough, it was gone. Furled back up under Six’s coat. She had shown him what he asked to know, and now was done. 

Mono was left panting, being nobody but himself, and it was abruptly confusing, painfully solitary. His fingers stroked over his wrist, only to find nothing weird about it anymore. The shadow had come and gone without leaving a single physical mark. 

Six watched him thoughtfully, maybe assessing his reaction. 

Mono closed his fingers around his wrist, getting his breath under control. For a moment, he had just been more intimate with a complete stranger than any other human could possibly dream to be with anyone. He had known someone inside and out. He knew their name. Everything they had thought or done or felt. While the knowledge was too immense to be anything but fleeting, it chilled him to the core, because Six had ended their life. Without hesitation. She had felt another person’s existence and personality and being and - and she chose to destroy it. Over and over again, with countless people. Worse than that, she reveled in it.

Six scooted nearer, her brows furrowing in innocent concern. It was too much, though: Mono staggered to his feet and backed up, tense. “I-I… need some space.”

That's all he uttered before he was gone, down another alley, then another, mind reeling. It wasn't that he didn't know what Six was doing was wrong... that the people she was eating were - well, people, individuals, kids just like them with lives of their own. He'd known it but never really let himself accept the reality of it. Never let himself linger on it. Tried not to think about it. Now it was impossible not to. 

This... this would take time to work through.


End file.
